A Journey in the Darkness
by Deandra
Summary: Eomer and Lothiriel mourn a loss. ONESHOT. Part 38 of the Elfwine Chronicles.


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Part 38 of the Elfwine Chronicles. The Elfwine Chronicles are a series of one-shots built around the family group of Eomer, Lothiriel and Elfwine. The total number will depend on how many ideas I get for new vignettes.

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A/N: Tissue alert. I wept while writing this, so consider yourself forewarned. For all who have wondered why Elfwine was an only child for seven years. Many thanks to Eokat for her help in obtaining information for this story.

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A Journey in the Darkness

**(Oct, 4 IV)**

I sat in my study, my head in my hands. Four days. It had been four days already, and still I could not shake this terrible grief that consumed me. As I lifted my head, I noticed my hands were shaking. My hands never shook, not even in the fiercest battle against the most fearsome of enemies.

And what of Lothiriel? If this was crushing me, as an insect under foot, what was it doing to her? She had eaten virtually nothing since that terrible morning. For two days after, she had not left her bed and, now, though she was up and about, she moved through the day like a wraith.

Even the sight of Elfwine did not cheer her; indeed, it made her weep, and she spent far more time than he would have liked holding him and kissing him. But even at three years of age, he knew that something was amiss, though he knew not what and would not have understood if we told him. And, so, some part of him tolerated his mother's fervid attention to him.

But when he slept, or was elsewhere playing, Lothiriel would sit, curled in the large overstuffed chair in the nursery, and stare unseeingly at the empty crib. And I did not know how to console her.

I had held her while she wept, while we wept. I had assured her of my love. But nothing seemed to penetrate her shell, and I felt as though I was losing her right along with the child she had so recently carried. When finally she slept, exhausted from tears and the physical trauma, I had slipped out to the stable and saddled Firefoot. Gamling hastened to follow me so as to afford me some guard, but without intrusion. The moment I exited the city gates, I pressed Firefoot to a gallop, pushing him to breakneck speed. The wind rushing past tore at my face and clothes as if to tear me from the saddle, but it seemed nothing would rip the pain from my heart. When at last I had slowed to a stop, breathing nearly as hard as Firefoot, my grief seemed to echo to the mountains and tauntingly bounce back at me. And, in the end, I had ridden silently back to Edoras, still wrapped in the debilitating melancholy that had settled upon me like a cloak.

Now, as I sat weeping alone, I remembered that, many years before, Elfhelm's wife had lost a child ere its birth. I was loath to broach a possibly painful subject with someone I did not know well, but she seemed my only hope of understanding what I could possibly do to heal this great hurt that had come upon our family. I had lost loved ones before this – my parents, my cousin, my uncle – but the pain I had felt then was nothing compared to losing a child of my own. I could not bear it, and I knew Lothiriel could not bear it. I must find solace for the both of us if we were ever to be happy again.

Decisively I stood and headed out the door.

It did not take long to reach the home they used when in Edoras, and for a moment I almost reconsidered this course of action. But, at length, I raised my hand and knocked.

Elfhelm was a bit startled to see me on his doorstep, I could tell. But then I caught a flicker of understanding in his eyes. Perhaps my presence was not so unexpected. He invited me in, giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze as I passed him.

His wife, Freyda, was preparing supper and gave me a welcoming, but condolent, smile. Elfhelm waved me toward the sitting room, thinking I had come to talk with him, but determinedly I turned instead and took a seat at the kitchen table. Elfhelm made no comment, but I caught a glance between him and his wife.

I sat for some time, trying to collect my thoughts, and trying to think of a way to ask my question without offending. They waited patiently, and somewhat abruptly I looked up at Freyda and blurted out, "I need to know how to help her."

My control was lost, and I could not hold back the hot tears that washed down my face. Silently, Freyda slipped into the chair next to me and pulled me into her embrace. She held me until my sobbing eased, and then slowly she began to speak.

"It is not an easy thing for men to understand, Eomer, but losing a child is almost like losing an arm or a leg, for a woman. Because we carry them inside us, we have a much deeper connection to them, from the first instant we know of their existence to the day that they die. And even beyond death, for we never forget them." Tears now fell from her own eyes as well, but she seemed to take no notice.

"All you can really do is hold her, and love her, and hold her some more. Eventually the sharpest pangs of grief will ease. I cannot tell you when – it is different for each woman. But Lothiriel is strong and I am certain she will recover in time."

She glanced at her husband, and then told me, "You must not be afraid to go to her and share her grief. And you must not be afraid to..." She paused a moment, and again stole a look at Elfhelm, who shifted uneasily in his chair.

"Afraid to what?" I pressed.

"Afraid to touch her and...make love to her again," she answered firmly. "To do so will only increase her feeling of abandonment and guilt. Though it makes no sense, she is surely blaming herself for not carrying this child, and if you let your grief separate you, it will make her believe that you blame her as well. Let her know that you wish to make love to her again. That you find no fault in her, and trust her to bear you more children. If she knows you do not blame her, then she will be able to forgive herself." Freyda wiped at her eyes with her apron, and hastily stood to stir a bubbling pot.

I saw Elfhelm's expression out of the corner of my eye, and understood. He had made that mistake – had stayed away from his wife, thinking it would help her but, instead, made her suffer more. And I had been staying away, too. I had thought that intimacy would make her grieve more for what was lost. I had not realized it would only make her feel I was gone from her as well.

Wearily I stood, and Elfhelm rose also. He gave me a steady gaze and then pulled me into a fatherly embrace. He did not know how welcome that felt. Eventually, I stepped back and gave them both a weak smile. "Thank you," I told them softly and made for the door.

Elfhelm watched me disappear up the street until I was out of his sight.

I still was not certain that I truly understood the depths of Lothiriel's despondency, but I would not leave her to grieve alone. We had made this child together, and lost it together. We would heal together.

THE END

7-30-05

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End note: It is not essential that you read the Elfwine Chronicles in the order they were written, but there is an advantage to doing so. The more of them that I wrote, the more likely I was to make reference to one of the previous ones and something that happened there. If you want to read them in order, go to the top of this page and click on my name (Deandra). That will take you to my profile page. Scroll down and you will find all the stories I have written. The Elfwine Chronicles are in order from bottom to top since ffn shows them in the order they were posted. A few were posted out of number order (#15 came after #17, I think), but you can read them in posting order or number order since those few won't be affected in the story content.


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